That Apiary Of Sunlight Poem by Robert Rorabeck

What of another vision saying nothing—
Walking to and from school—always the hardest time,
When the housewives are always out,
Stinging their lips upon that apiary of sunlight—
The fireworks not out yet,
And the only thing being changed is the drying of
The grasses in a merry-go-round or a gauntlet
Of the seasons—
And you are already in the playground, encapsulated
With your better man, until you fall down into the woods
Kissing him—looking up as the airplanes
Try to make it to the heavens.